


Well Worth the Price

by Anonymous



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Dom/sub Undertones, First Time, Knotting, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Male Alpha - Freeform, Male Omega, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mildly Dubious Consent, Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:41:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24713281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: It was well known that the only thing an alpha found more desirable than a young, virgin omega in heat was a pregnant omega who'd been marked with the alpha's own scent. He'd heard of wealthy alphas willing to pay astonishing prices for omegas like him. And one of the city's most famous flesh-peddlers happened to be just up the street.
Relationships: Male Alpha/Male Omega, OMC/OMC, Omega Who Auctioned Off His First Heat Breeding Rights/Male Auction Winner
Comments: 8
Kudos: 195
Collections: Anomegawork, Anonymous, Heat Fic Summer 2020





	Well Worth the Price

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eidetic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eidetic/gifts).



"Sold to the Duchess of Debbin for twelve hundred and fifty tridents! You won't regret it, your grace, this one's a fine piece of flesh."

The words were muffled by the velvet curtain, but Sandar heard them clearly enough to tremble. Dioc had been the last beta up for auction. Now it was the omegas' turn. And Sandar, the oldest and therefore least desirable, was first in line.

He'd exhausted every other possible way to pay off the mobsters who extorted protection money from his mother's struggling bakery. He'd also exhausted every dream that some fabulously wealthy benefactor would fall in love with his mother and whisk them away to a life of luxury. All that was left was to wait until he went into heat. It was well known that the only thing an alpha found more desirable than a young, virgin omega in heat was a pregnant omega who'd been marked with the alpha's own scent. He'd heard of wealthy alphas willing to pay astonishing prices for omegas like him. And one of the city's most famous flesh-peddlers happened to be just up the street from the bakery.

When the first telltale flush of heat crept across Sandar's face a few weeks after his fourteenth birthday, he'd put on his one clean shirt, said goodbye to his tearful mother, walked to Madam Ellou's brothel, and signed away his virgin body and his first-heat breeding rights to the highest bidder. Madam Ellou would take 15%. The rest, if he was lucky, would buy a little cottage in the country where he and his mother—and his child, he reminded himself, this mad venture would most likely result in hiim having a _child_ —could live out their days in peace.

Miss Carym, the beta in charge of keeping the omegas in line, seized his arm, not quite hard enough to bruise. "You're next," she said unnecessarily. "Try to look worth buying."

Sandar whined quietly as he felt pangs of heat spiraling through him, slick trickling down his thighs. He felt deeply uncomfortable walking around without clothes on and kept wanting to cover himself. He was scared of being knotted, and even more scared of pregnancy. Giving birth to him had nearly killed his mother, though omegas supposedly had an easier time of it than betas like her. He knew the auction winner would be wealthy enough to abuse him with impunity, paying him to keep silent or bribing the Watch or the judge to look the other way. But even as the more rational parts of him cringed from what he was doing, his mind was clouded with desperate need for an alpha's knot, his base biological urges taking him over in a way he'd never imagined could happen. Without an adult omega in his life to teach him what to expect, he was completely unprepared for the heat-hunger, and it was overwhelming.

Miss Carym thought he was whimpering in pain, and she laughed, squeezing his arm. "This is nothing, boy," she said. "Wait until your buyer gets their hands on you." She nodded in satisfaction as tears gathered in his eyes. "That's right. Cry a little. They like that. But not so much that you look like a mess."

From the stage he heard Madam Ellou say, "That concludes our beta auctions for the evening. If you missed what you were looking for, don't despair; there's always next month, and we have a fine selection of betas available for your enjoyment by the hour or day. Now..." She paused dramatically, and Sandar braced himself. "The evening's final auctions are untouched, virgin omegas. These boys and girls are in their first heats, ripe and ready to be introduced to the pleasures of the flesh. Such treasures are rare in this debauched city—" He heard faint laughter from the audience. "—and they command a high price. Bidding begins at two thousand tridents for unlimited, exclusive access and breeding rights for the duration of the heat. The omega will be housed at Madam Ellou's, but if you breed them, you retain your exclusive access until the child is born." She rapped the gavel as the audience murmured. "Our first luscious omega, heat-flushed, ready, and eager for your knot, is... Sandar!"

Sandar's heat was like a fever. Pheremones had never mattered much to him before, but now the mingled scents of the dozens of alphas in the room overwhelmed his senses. He barely felt Miss Carym lead him out and turn him around, making him bend over a padded wooden horse and spread his legs to show off his slick-sodden hole. Madam Ellou called out names and numbers but they meant nothing to him. All he could feel was his hole twitching with eagerness, the animal part of him hoping his vulnerable pose would entice an alpha to come knot him then and there. He lay limply on the sawhorse and drifted on a sea of hormones.

The slam of the gavel jolted him. He heard Madam Ellou say, "Sold! To Lord Caverell of Ennsmere for six thousand and forty tridents. Congratulations, my lord."

Sandar gasped in shock. Surely he must have misheard her. Even after the auction house's cut, that was far more than he'd expected to earn. He couldn't even imagine what so many pieces of gold would look like all in one place. For that much coin, he would gladly let this lord do whatever he liked. A pregnancy, a few bruises... what was that against a lifetime of safety and comfort?

He struggled to his feet in a daze and let Miss Carym guide him off the stage.

When she took him out a side door and down the hall, he stammered, "Isn't the lord going to... collect me?"

Miss Carym rolled her eyes. "Don't you pay attention, boy? The lord has other auctions to bid on. And you don't go to live with him; he's borrowing you, not buying you to take home like a trinket. He'll come to visit you when he pleases. Perhaps tonight, perhaps tomorrow. All he's bought is the knowledge that no other alpha will touch you until your heat is done. Or the pregnancy, if that comes to pass."

She took him to a fancy suite, with an anteroom as well as a bedchamber. Both rooms were lit with dozens of expensive wax candles. A meal had been laid out, not a feast but nothing shabby: slices of cold roast beef, a soft sheep's milk cheese and flat bread to spread it on, two bunches of tiny dark grapes, sweating flagons of wine and water. Sandar's stomach rumbled and Miss Carym snorted. "That's not for you," she said. "Didn't we just feed you an hour ago?"

"I... think so," he said. He had a dim memory of bolting a bowl of rice porridge before the auction. It had been hearty enough, but Sandar, like any teenage boy, was perpetually hungry, and the smell of the rich food was mouthwatering. He hadn't tasted beef in years.

Miss Carym shook her head. "Well, if the lord doesn't show up and eat that by the time Daro comes to clear it away, you can have as much as you like," she said. 

"Thank you," Sandar said, surprised. It was the most kindness she'd shown him.

"You just made Ellou's nine hundred tridents, which is about five hundred more than we expected," she said. "We can spare you a bit of beef."

Another lance of heat sparked through his middle and he bit back a moan, feeling the flush travel up his body to his face. Miss Carym caught him as his knees buckled and guided him to the bed. "Lie there," she said. "And stay there until the lord comes for you or someone else tells you he's not coming tonight."

Sandar collapsed onto the bed, the fine cotton sheet soft and cool against his fevered skin, and closed his eyes. He heard the door close.

In the quiet room, his breathing seemed loud. He realized he was panting. Heat-pangs coiled and twisted inside him. His cocklet was hard, fully the size of his thumb, and aching. If he hadn't been ordered to stay on the bed, he'd be pacing around the room looking for anything he could push inside himself to fill the echoing emptiness of his hole—maybe one of the thick pillar candles, or the flagon of wine. Anything to satisfy his body's demands. 

His limbs were weak. It was as though his own body had drugged him. He moaned and shifted, rubbing his dripping cocklet against the soft sheet. Any other time he'd be embarrassed to stain such fine linens, but all such ordinary thoughts were beyond him now.

A gentle hand stroked down his sweaty back. He shrieked, startled, and flailed until he managed to turn over. He hadn't even heard the door open, but a man stood by the bed, his face surprised and amused. Alpha pheromones wafted from him. Sandar took a deep gulping breath of them, feeling his body answer with a rush of heat that prickled red across his skin.

"I'm sorry I startled you," the alpha said.

Sandar stared. A noble had never _apologized_ to him before. He had no idea how to respond. "M-my lord," he croaked. 

"My boy," the alpha said, putting an entirely different emphasis on the possessive. He slowly looked Sandar over, clearly savoring the sight of the naked, flushed omega sprawled across the bed.

What was the lord's name? Madam Ellou had said it... Caverell, Sandar remembered at last. Lord Caverell was clearly no blushing virgin himself. He was a nondescript man of middle age, and his rich robe and soft skin marked him as someone who had never lacked for money. He divested himself of his clothes without hesitation, neatly folding them over the back of a chair. The wiry hair on his chest, like the hair on his head, was dark and beginning to go gray. Sandar had never seen another man naked and was nonplussed by all the hair, so different from his own adolescent smoothness. Below the hairy chest was a well-fed and rounded belly. Below that...

Sandar had seen crude graffiti of alpha cocks and balls, but seeing one in the flesh was entirely different. Caverell's cock was already hard, and it bounced slightly as he walked toward the bed. Its pointed tip peeked out from the foreskin. Below it, his sac was weighty and pendulous. Sandar swallowed nervously at the implication of virility. He had no doubt this alpha would get him pregnant long before his heat was over.

"I was going to ask whether you were really a virgin," Caverell said, "but given that you're looking at my cock as though it's a poisonous snake poised to strike, I have no concerns on that front."

Sandar's heat-flush was deepened by shame. "I'm sorry, my lord," he muttered.

"No, no, it's charming. And it reassures me that I'm getting my money's worth." Caverell sat down on the bed and leaned over to sniff at Sandar's neck. Sandar forced himself to hold still as the alpha inhaled deeply. "Mmm, yes, not a hint of another alpha. So sweet, and all mine."

Without warning, Caverell wrapped his hand around Sandar's throat, forcing his chin up until their eyes met. "I'm not a cruel man," he said, "but I'll not tolerate any struggling or whining. We are both here so I can take my pleasure from you and you can take my coin from me. As I'm paying a pretty penny for you, I plan to enjoy my purchase to the fullest, and I expect you to yield without complaint. Do as you're told and you'll find me easy to please. Understood?"

"Yes, my lord," Sandar gasped. The pressure at his throat wasn't enough to restrict his breathing, but it made an emphatic statement of alpha dominance. Without a conscious thought, the omega tilted his head back further and arched his back, displaying his throat and belly, and felt fresh slick trickle from his hole.

"Good." Caverell released him. Sandar slowly relaxed, panting. He had no idea what to do, but it was clear that he could count on Caverell for direction. All he had to do was obey. That seemed simple enough.

"Bring your legs up and hook your arms under your knees," Caverell told him. Sandar obeyed, putting himself on display, and was startled when his body responded to the pose with another rush of arousal. His cocklet twitched. Caverell smiled and reached down to stroke it. Sandar cried out and writhed as Caverell caressed the throbbing little organ, wrapping two thick fingers around it and slowly working the foreskin up and down. "You really want this, don't you," he murmured.

"Yes," Sandar moaned. "Yes, my lord, yes!"

"And this?" Caverell's other hand slid lower, dipping the tips of two fingers easily into Sandar's slick hole. 

Sandar shook his head wildly, sweaty hair flying into his eyes. He'd poked curiously at his hole now and then, but without heat to slick it, penetration had always been painful. Now the slightest caress there was unspeakably intense. But at the same time, it wasn't—something wasn't—

"Please, please," he begged, not knowing what he was asking for.

"Please more of this?" Caverell pushed his fingers in, still jerking Sandar's cocklet with his other hand.

Sandar curled upward, knees pressing into his chest, as an almost terrifying pleasure built inside him. But still, something was—wrong, or missing, or—

"No, yes, please," he cried, "I need, I need—"

Caverell chuckled. "I know what you need," he said, withdrawing his fingers. Sandar lay back, his chest heaving, his body driven utterly to confusion by pleasure granted and denied. "You need my cock. My big alpha cock and my knot. Say it."

"Yes, I need your big alpha cock," Sandar gasped, feeling only grateful that Caverell had put words to his yearning. "Please put it in my, my hole, please, I need your cock and your knot, please knot me, please, please..."

He kept babbling as Caverell knelt on the bed and slid a pillow under Sandar's ass. When Caverell rubbed his cock slowly across Sandar's hole, gathering slick, all words left him. He whined desperately, jerking his hips, pleading with his body.

Caverell made him wait one more long moment, and then he leaned forward over Sandar and, with a single smooth and easy movement, pushed his cock all the way up into the omega's waiting hole, nestling in precisely as though it had always belonged there.

They groaned together, long and loud, and then Caverell began to move, steady and purposeful, growling softly every time he pressed deeper in. Sandar keened and gave himself up to bliss. He let go of his legs, leaving them propped up on Caverell's shoulders, and felt his whole body go limp. He was on fire, inside and out, but the burning was sweet. Caverell's soft belly rubbed over him, warm and wet—they were both coated in his copious slick, as well as the fluid leaking steadily from his cocklet—and he was shocked when his cocklet suddenly began throbbing and dribbling between them in an orgasm he hadn't even felt building. 

Against the deeper pleasure inside him, the external climax felt almost insignificant. But it left his cocklet tingling and sensitive, and soon Caverell rubbing against it was almost painful. Sandar shook and cried out with every thrust of Caverell's cock, feeling tears gather at the corners of his eyes. Caverell only thrust harder, grinning down at Sandar, seeming to enjoy his distress. Sandar tensed up, beginning to panic. What if this overwhelming sensation would never end?

At last Caverell leaned down and murmured "Yield" in his ear. Sandar shuddered and relaxed all at once. Yes, that was right. His alpha would take care of him. His alpha knew what he was doing. All the omega had to do was yield.

Through some strange alchemy, releasing his fear shifted the tenor of his pleasure. The rubbing on his cocklet was less sharply intense. Caverell's cock was finding some spot deep inside him that felt—he didn't have words for it, it was like a color or a flavor or something too _much_ to be called a sensation—and a shimmering, tingling feeling began building inside him that he slowly realized would be a truly momentous orgasm.

Caverell bit gently at the tender place where Sandar's neck met his shoulder, lapping at his sweat, tasting and scenting him. His movements changed, his thrusts shorter and harder, and soon his cock was buried as deeply as possible in Sandar's hole, bumping up against a tenderness far inside him. He began panting, rutting rapidly, biting harder at Sandar's shoulder and clutching at his hips. A pressure grew inside Sandar, pressure that slowly shifted into an ache, and he dimly realized that must be Caverell's knot. Any moment now, the alpha would come inside him.

This was it—the moment that would mark him indelibly. Even if he didn't get pregnant, his scent would subtly change. Anyone who sniffed him would know he had given his heat to an alpha. He was a grown man now, though his body was still a boy's, and something of childhood was lost to him forever.

The immensity of it swept through him, magnified by his heat, and shook loose an orgasm that broke over him like a tidal wave. Sandar screamed and jerked, his hands and feet scrabbling at the bed and his eyes rolling back. His hips were pinned to the bed by the weight of Caverell's body, his hole speared by Caverell's cock, but all the rest of him shuddered and flailed. It was pleasure and beyond pleasure. It felt like he was being turned inside out.

Caverell gasped as the clenching of Sandar's hole wrung his own climax from him. Sandar could feel Caverell's cock throbbing, and Caverell indulged in a long, loud groan with every spurt of come. Sandar whimpered as the pressure built up inside of him, an ache not unlike that of the knot.

As the last aftershocks of Sandar's orgasm shook him, the ache became real pain. Unthinking, he tried to pull away and cried out at the sharp agony of the knot catching at the rim of his hole. "None of that," Caverell said hoarsely, gripping Sandar's hips and pushing in. "You'll take it all."

Sandar lay there and took it all, whining quietly with the pain as Caverell's orgasm went on and on and on. Tears slowly trickled down his face. His heat-flush had subsided, and his skin felt cold and clammy where it wasn't sticky; the sheet clung to his back when he shifted. Caverell paid no attention to his discomfort, grinding slowly against him, clearly enjoying the sensation of pumping the omega full and more than full of his come. "Just wait," Caverell said. "A week or two of this and you'll be a bottomless well."

Sandar shuddered. Caverell laughed, reached between them, and gently stroked Sandar's cocklet until it stiffened, rubbing it and rocking into him with the same rhythm. Pleasure slowly eased some of the pain. "At your age, your stamina is endless," Caverell said. "And once you're pregnant, it's like being half in heat all the time. I'm sure you'll soon want more than I can give you."

He paused as though he expected some sort of a reply, but Sandar shook his head, too overwhelmed to speak. 

Caverell smiled at him, fond and possessive, still stroking Sandar's cocklet. Sandar's hole tightened around Caverell's knot and his still-hard cock, and Sandar moaned, not even sure whether it hurt or felt good or both. Heat-flush began to prickle along his skin again.

"You see?" Caverell said. "I bet I can get at least another two or three orgasms out of you before my knot goes down. Let's find out." He brushed his fingers across Sandar's throat, a gentle reminder of his earlier fierceness. "And remember, whenever you feel scared or unsure or don't know what to do, you yield to me."

Helplessly overcome, the omega nodded and gave in, yielding entirely to his alpha.


End file.
